Anamorphosis
by LordsofLazarus
Summary: During a raid, Lucius Malfoy came across an intriguing child and brought the infant home. Raised as a meager servant, little does anyone know how bright his future will be…
1. Anamorphosis

Disclaimer:  
I do not own Harry Potter or profit from writing this in any way, shape, or form.  
Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling.  
This is Fanfiction and, therefore, written only for my own amusement, and the enjoyment of whoever reads it.

Summary:  
During a raid, Lucius Malfoy came across an intriguing child and brought the infant home.  
Raised as a meager servant, little does anyone know how bright his future would be…

* * *

Anamorphosis

* * *

Chapter 1; _'Anamorphosis'_

* * *

**an·a·mor·pho·sis**

"_A distorted projection or drawing that appears normal when  
viewed from a particular point or with a suitable mirror or lens."_

* * *

All around the group of cloaked figures, lightning crashed, illuminating the night. It was the evening of Samhain, when magical power was at its peak. The group shuffled forward, the rain falling off of their clothing like ice, reflected in the oncoming storm.

The group trudged silently through the quaint village-town of Godric's Hollow, the rain falling all about them, masking their footsteps perfectly.

Very few lights shown through the windows of the houses that the group passed, so many witches and wizards alike completely unawares as to what would soon take place. The group was headed by a tall figure, more so than the rest. A man, by his stature, with his face hidden by a mask of gleaming silver.

The rest of the group bore similar masks, though every one of them was unique. As they approached one house in particular, a rather small, timid man stepped forward and grasped hold of the front man's wrist, "This one, this is the one, Lucius!" he whispered in a panting voice.

The man, Lucius, roughly disentangled his wrist from the smaller man, his disgust not entirely veiled by the mask, "Then let us through, you fool!" he hissed, watching with a hidden sneer as the smaller man stepped forward to where the house was guarded by a metal fence.

The smaller man glanced around nervously before prying the gate to the fence open. The group watched as streams of thin white light fell down from the top of the building to land noiselessly about the yard. Far off in the distance, two wizards began to fight each other, a violent display of raw power that went unnoticed by the group.

Lucius turned around to face the rest of the group, "You have your orders, follow them," he declared, his voice stern, "And tonight, we shall have our victory."

Barely contained sounds of excitement and jeers of anxiousness erupted into the night as the group dispersed, leaving only Lucius and the smaller man, who cowered by the gate, "A- are we g- going in?"

The man turned back and was assuredly glaring at him through the mask, "Of course we are, Wormtail," he snarled, adjusting the cane he held in his left hand, "Why else would we be here if not for the Dark Lord's orders?"

Wormtail nodded solemnly as he continued up the walkway to the house he had just opened for anyone and everyone. Had Lily and James not made him their Secret Keeper as opposed to Sirius Black…

Wormtail shook his head and knocked on the door, "J- James! Open up, please!"

Mere moments later, a light flickered on from behind the door, "Peter?" a woman's voice called out, "Are you alright? James, open the door!"

A man's shadow appeared over the windowed door before it swung open, revealing a tall man with dark hair and large glasses, "Peter, what-?"

The man's eyes widened as all around Godric's Hollow a fire, strong and steady, raged through it while the denizens of the village-town blasted spell after spell in order to put it out. James surged forward, fumbling in his robes for his own wand.

His wife gasped from behind him, "James, Peter, what happened?", she asked in a frightened voice, surveying the roaring flames slowly devouring Godric's Hollow.

Wormtail stepped as far off to the left as he could, James watching him as he did so, confused by the man's quiet mantra of, "Sorry!"

Lily screamed, "James, by the gate!"

James Potter whipped around, his wand firmly grasped in his hand, pointed at the cloaked figure slowly walking past their fence and up the stone path to their house, "Who are you? Friend or foe?"

The man stopped abruptly. In seconds, the man's wand was out and pointed straight at James, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

James screeched, "_Protego!_" as the veins of green bolted towards his chest. The shimmering white disc in front of him shattered upon contact with the opposing spell, allowing it to strike him firmly in the chest.

He tottered and fell sideways, his dark eyes rolled up into his skull as his body collided with a sickly crunch on the small garden by the front porch. Lily watched in horror for a moment before she slammed the door with a heavy sob.

While Wormtail gazed miserably at the dead body of James Potter, Lucius blew past him, blasting the door open with magic. He made his way up to the top of the stairs, following the trail of debris that Lily Potter had knocked down them in a pitiful attempt to forestall his arrival.

The door she had fled into was locked, of course, though such things were useless in the face of magic. A simple blasting spell was all it took, the door caved in, the remainder was swinging off the hinges.

Lily Potter stood wide eyed beside her child's crib, wand drawn and pointed straight at him, "Get out of my house!" she yelled, the noise making her child wail loudly.

When her eyes darted to the side, Lucius moved, "_Expelliarmus!_"

Lily's wand flew to the far side of the room. Her eyes darted from it, to Lucius, to her son, still crying inside the crib, "Please, not Harry," she whispered, looking like a frightened animal, "Kill me, not him, not my Harry!"

The man grimaced at her overly affectionate display and directed his wand to her torso, "_Immobulus,_" was whispered and Lily Potter froze, unable to so much as blink. Lucius stepped closer until his wand brushed her forehead, "_Obliviate._"

A dazed look overcame the auburn haired woman and she staggered as best she could, still unable to move properly. Lucius cast one final spell which sent the woman to the floor, not something so vile as the Killing Curse, no, only one to make her sleep peacefully until she awoke, remembering scarcely more than her name.

Lucius stepped over her body, ignoring the sounds pouring in through the open window in the nursery. The crib was white and filled with sheets, upon which rested a small, dark haired child, completely oblivious to the world. He wondered absently how the child could have fallen asleep so quickly…

Despite his icy demeanor, Lucius was not fond of killing, especially children. He was a father himself, after all.

The child most assuredly took after his father. Lucius pointed his wand at the sleeping child, only to have the child's small fists dab at its eyes. Lucius stared at the child when its eyes opened to stare back at him.

The vibrant green in those eyes nearly made him flinch, the same colour as the curse he was about to use on the boy. By all means, the boy should have died that night, but a vain man such as he was found himself drawn to those bright emerald eyes, and so he took the child.

He wrapped the child in the blankets that adorned the crib, making sure that the infant wouldn't freeze, and made his way down the stairs, not bothering to glance back as Lily Potter began to lightly stir.

Wormtail was still outside, his hands shoved into the pockets of his robes. Lucius noticed that the body of James Potter had been arranged as if in a casket, though it still lay in the garden in which he fell.

Wormtail quickly averted his eyes when he noticed Lucius' stare and scurried off, _'Cowardly creature…'_

How a person such as Peter Pettigrew was even thought of as a Gryffindor was obscene…

Lucius shook his head as the child began to murmur incoherently into his robes. The wind was picking up, carrying the fires now taking Godric's Hollow by storm even further, coating the surrounding woods in brilliantly red and orange flames.

Perhaps Lily Potter might not even get the chance to awaken…

As the flames crept ever closer to the Potter house, Lucius Apparated, along with the child, just missing the explosion of green that blew over the slowly rising sun…

* * *

When he arrived back at Malfoy Manor, he had the house elves take his outer robes and mask and place them in his study. The boy in his arms, Harry, still slept soundly.

Lucius made his way into the grand living room where his wife, Narcissa, waited, a black nightgown still on her person, "Narcissa," he called gently, watching with some small affection as she turned and began walking over.

She stopped abruptly, eyes wide, when she saw what he had brought into their home, "Lucius," she said, sounding both curious and confused, "What is that?"

Lucius glanced down at the child, "An infant, Narcissa, our son happens to be one as well," he replied smartly, closing the distance between them. He bent his head to kiss his wife when she jerked back suddenly.

"I will not have that bastard of a child in our house!" she shrieked in a most unpleasant way, sounding very much akin to Walburga Black, "Take it back where you found it!"

He stepped forward quickly, lightly taking her face in one hand, stroking his fingers soothingly over her cheek, "Hush, my love," he whispered, adjusting his other hand so as not to drop the child, "I merely though to acquire him, as I have no need for the monetary spoils that the others so covetously desire, you should see the child's eyes, Narcissa…"

She shook her head lightly, "I don't want to look at it, Lucius," she pleaded, her eyes tearing up, "Please, _please_, darling, take it away, I don't want it near my baby, I don't _want_ another baby in our house…"

Lucius sighed as he stepped back. Narcissa was too single-minded, too obsessed with her own infant to even bother with another. As he left the room, he scoffed at her for appearing to think that he would replace Draco; of course he would never do such a thing.

The notion was ridiculous…

He sighed as he looked down at the child with its beautifully Slytherin eyes, "What am I to do with you, my little one…?" he whispered softly, watching almost in a trance as the green eyes opened once again.

Lucius tilted his head to the side. He had an idea, though he wasn't entirely sure, "Dobby!" he called after a moment. With a sharp pop, a timid looking house elf appeared before him, head bent in respect, "What can Dobby be doing for his Master?"

Lucius glanced regrettably at the child in his arms and thrust the bundled infant at the house elf, "Take care of this. Do _not_, under any circumstances, allow anything to happen to it. Treat it… as if it were your own."

As Lucius strode off into another part of the manor, the house elf that he had left behind stared in wonder at the child in his arms, "Dobby has been asked to raise a wizard baby…" the small, floppy eared thing exclaimed, then again with more force, "_Dobby_ is going to raise a wizard baby?"

The house elf quickly apparated itself and the child into the house elves' quarters, a tight space, even more so now with the infant. Despite the lack of room, the entire mansion's worth of house elves gathered round as Dobby explained the recent addition to the manor.

As the child opened its eyes once more, the house elves began to clamor about, joyously clapping and dancing. The house elves of Malfoy Manor had been given something much better than a piece of clothing.

They were given a _wizard child_, to raise as their very own…

* * *

Author's Notes:

I am so incredibly happy to be posting my HP fanfictions again, especially after so long. This one was always one of my favorites...


	2. Eccedentesiast

Disclaimer:  
I do not own Harry Potter or profit from writing this in any way, shape, or form.  
Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling.  
This is Fanfiction and, therefore, written only for my own amusement, and the enjoyment of whoever reads it.

Summary:  
During a raid, Lucius Malfoy came across an intriguing child and brought the infant home.  
Raised as a meager servant, little does anyone know how bright his future would be…

* * *

Anamorphosis

* * *

Chapter 2; _'Eccedentesiast'_

* * *

**ec·ce·den·tes·i·ast**

_"One who fakes a smile."_

* * *

Boy was a house elf. He had grown up inside Malfoy Manor and was raised by other house elves. Boy knew he was different from the rest, he lacked the floppy, over-sized ears, the wide eyes, and the long spindly fingers. He was also much taller than they were, and he had hair…

His father was a house elf named Dobby. But Boy knew that Dobby loved him, despite his faults as a house elf. For one, Boy was unable to apparate at will. Instead, when he was called to clean, he had to run until his lungs were filled to bursting.

All the 'magic' he could do was a minor amount of cleaning with a snap of his fingers, but even that left him breathless. Still, it was better than nothing…

His Master, Lucius Malfoy, was much more lenient towards Boy, the young house elf would even go so far as to call his Master an affectionate soul had he not time and again born witness to the wizard's cruelty towards the other house elves.

Boy may have felt estranged by the others at times, because Master would never so much as lay a hand against him, but he didn't mind.

The Mistress, Lady Narcissa, his Master's wife, was another matter. She always frowned when she saw Boy and never, even in the most necessary of circumstances, resorted to calling him. She forbid him from even looking at herself or her son directly.

He was put out of course, both the Lady and the Young Master were beautiful in their own way, but Boy was especially fond of Master who would, when the other two were away, place Boy on his lap and hold him close.

Once, when Boy was six, he had asked Master why he did such a thing. His Master had replied that Boy, 'Harry' as Master was fond of calling him, was special, and that he had taken Boy from bad people because of his eyes; Boy's Master loved his eyes, calling them 'Slytherin', which Boy knew was a wizard's word.

He often felt so proud of his eyes…

Now, Boy was eight years old, about the same age as the Young Master, a wizardling named Draco. Earlier in the day, Master had called for him and informed him to stay in his room, one he had all to himself, a present from Master, the cupboard in the kitchen.

Boy had been confused, but complied happily. Anything for Master…

* * *

It was a great honour for anyone to claim to have the Dark Lord as a guest, even more so if that claim was true.

Lucius Malfoy sat in a tall chair in one of the living rooms, this particular one painted a calming creamy-white. The Dark Lord had needed to speak with Lucius and had insisted to do so in the man's own home.

Lucius, of course, had acquiesced, not willing to incur his Lord's wrath by refusing. He was slightly worried of course for his Harry, the child he had taken in.

Thinking in reverse, Lucius almost regretted allowing the house elves to raise the child. On the plus side, the boy was completely loyal to him, and, as Narcissa wanted naught to do with the child, to him alone.

The negatives, however, were slightly disheartening. The child refused to respond to his birth name, opting instead for 'Boy', the only thing the house elves had been able to think of for the child. He also would expect punishment whenever Lucius called him, no matter how gentle he tried to be with the boy.

Furthering the difficulties, once when Narcissa and Draco had gone out, into town or some such, Lucius had attempted to teach the boy magic. Of course he had seen his little green eyed prize using wandless magic to clean around the manor, but the boy was to be a wizard and should therefore use a wand.

He had called Harry into his office and set the boy on his lap before placing his wand in the boy's hands.

The reaction had been violent. Before he could say a word, Harry had dropped the wand as if was on fire, quickly scrambling off of Lucius and hiding under the desk. Dobby had popped in, hearing the commotion, and taken what he fancied to call his 'son' back with the rest of the house elves…

Lucius cleared his head with a decisive shake, ridding his mind of all previous thoughts. Back to his reasoning for hiding the boy, well, with the Dark Lord soon arriving, he wouldn't want the boy cursed on a whim; the Dark Lord was not at all a kind man.

He called for one of the house elves, it didn't matter which, to bring him something to drink…

* * *

The cupboard was cramped, but it was the only place Boy was allowed to call his own, the Mistress was uncomfortable with even that…

Boy sat in the small, dark cupboard, quite used to the limited space in which he had to move around. He sometimes missed sleeping with his family, but he was simply too big to remain with them any longer.

Boy tapped his fingers on the wood anxiously. The cupboard was just fine for him to sleep in, but he couldn't bear just sitting in it doing nothing.

He slowly and carefully eased the door open, knowing that it creaked loudly if opened by someone carelessly. He peeked his head out and listened. Hearing nothing, Boy eased his way out of the cupboard and into the kitchen.

From there, he opened the back door, where the illustrious Malfoy gardens lay. Boy loved the gardens and, seeing that the Mistress was gone, as she often was these days, Boy figured that his Master wouldn't terribly mind if he was to keep himself out of sight in the gardens instead.

Boy walked along the main pathway, glancing here and there at the flowers and shrubbery, some of which were magical. Boy could tell, since some of the flowers whispered things. One group in particular, a thin stemmed bunch with vibrantly pink flowers that formed shapes akin to human beings, talked the loudest.

Master called them some special name, but Boy knew that they were very rare and special magic flowers. Boy had only tried to touch them once before, but Master had grabbed him back swiftly by his waist. Once they were at a safe distance from the flowers, Master had held him tight, his long fingers stroking through Boy's hair.

Beautiful as they were, the flowers were deadly, known to entice men and women alike to do anything the flowers wished. Many people, unknowing of the flower's deadly potency, had even been seduced into killing themselves with whatever was available, their blood said make the flowers grow even lovelier.

They were otherwise known as the _Veela_ _Blossoms,_ because of their viciously wonderful allure…

Boy walked on, ignoring them as Master had instructed him to do, and turned left as the path split at this point, making an elegantly floral crossroad of sorts. As he walked farther, he saw something long and thick dodge under one of the hedges.

Curious, Boy followed...

* * *

Lucius sat, his silver-blonde hair tied back at his nape, staring intently at the man in front of him. The man was tall, a good inch or two taller than Lucius. His hair was a rich, dark brown that rested just above his shoulders.

His lips were curved into a permanent_, I-know-I'm-better-than-you_ smirk. But it was his eyes that truly captured attention. Dark magic had warped their colour, changing them into a deep, crimson hue. It wasn't uncommon for those who first met the man to flinch back at the sight.

By all means, the man looked like the Devil. That same kind of wicked, seductive beauty that pulled Lucius to him in the first place.

"My Lord," Lucius spoke reverently, "Honored as I am to have you grace my home, I am nonetheless curious as to why."

The man across from him chuckled lightly, "As you well know, Lucius, our current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, has an election coming up soon." he said, leaning back in the chair and clasping his hands together over his knees, "I want you to run against him."

Lucius couldn't help the shocked expression that overcame him, "Run against Fudge?" he parroted in awe, "My Lord, surely you cannot be serious! Fudge has been Minster for years, every wizard in Britain trusts him unconditionally!"

The dark haired man scowled, a vicious expression on his otherwise perfect face as he leaned forward, "Are you questioning me, Lucius?" he asked, his voice deadly calm, "Do you have any doubts concerning my methods? Fudge has been Minister for far too long and his blatant disregard for _my_ new society is obscene. You _will _replace him and act as befits my second in command, or you will find the consequences most unpleasant. Am I understood, Lucius?"

Lucius swallowed thickly, not oblivious to the air steadily growing thicker with Dark magic, "It will be done, my Lord."

The man relaxed somewhat and leaned back in the armchair, "Very good, Lucius," he purred, "I know you will not fail me. Now, I have other matters to attend to. Where is Nagini?" he asked as he stood, looking around for his now missing familiar.

Lucius inhaled sharply, trails of ice making a frozen pathway down his spine, _'Where is Harry?'_

* * *

Boy crawled out from under the hedge, swiping at his face and hands which had been cut thinly by some of the sharper branches.

As he stood, he glanced around only to freeze in place as an impossibly large snake stared right into his face. Boy swallowed, "P- please don't eat Boy," he whimpered, "Boy is only a house elf, means you no harm."

The snake's tongue flicked out and brushed his nose, making him scream faintly, nothing more than a sharp outburst of air. The serpent's head swayed to and fro seductively, Boy followed with his eyes, entranced almost.

He raised a hand slowly, cautiously, towards the creature, who hissed lowly at the encroaching limb. Boy drew his hand back a small bit before reaching forward again, this time with more care than before.

To his delight, his hand brushed the surface of her head, the smooth, cold scales pleasantly appealing to his touch. Boy slowly sat down on the ground, his hand never once leaving the serpent's head. It curled around him, rubbing its face across his cheek, and Boy felt the cold, smooth scales sliding over his ankles.

His fingers felt warm. As he slowly brushed them over the snake, they tingled. Throughout the constant coiling, its body tightened and released around him, gentle squeezes of his ribcage. Shimmering amber eyes stayed locked onto his own.

It was a sudden shout that send the serpent arching its head up and hissing viciously at the hedges. Boy watched as a tall, dark haired man stepped past the leaves and stared down at him. He flinched and looked down, trying to get up, but the snake would not let him.

Strange whispers left the tall man's lips, though Boy couldn't make sense of them. Finally, the snake released him and he stood, bowing over at the man he supposed was a wizard.

Before Boy could speak, his Master torn through the hedges, grabbed him, and held him in his arms, high above the ground, "Harry!" his Master said, "Thank Merlin you're alright!"

The snake made its way onto the taller man's shoulders as he asked, "Lucius, who is this? I was unaware that you had two of your spawn running about the manor."

Boy felt his Master flinch at the other's tone, "Ah, my Lord," his Master stuttered uncharacteristically, "This is… Harry. I… took him in during a raid…"

The man's eyebrows rose. It was easy for Boy to see now that his eyes were not just dark brown, they were red, "And you failed to inform me of your… _prize_, Lucius?"

The man stepped forward and took Boy by the chin, "Look at me, little one." he asked sweetly, though Boy didn't want to look at the man at all.

He did so reluctantly, and only because, as the man had frowned, his Master's grip on him had tightened almost painfully. Meeting the taller man's eyes, Boy decided that the man in front of him was the only person he had ever seen that rivaled his Master in looks.

"Such pretty eyes your pet has, Lucius," he said, his eyes never leaving Boy's as he smirked, "Though I had no idea that your tastes were so… _young._"

The snake whispered lightly, and Lucius colored, "I… assure you, my Lord, that such… _deplorable _acts are below me. Harry is merely a… decoration."

"So you say."

The man at last released Boy and turned to his Master, though the spoken words made Boy's blood run cold, "Tell me, Lucius, how valuable is he to you?"

Lucius didn't answer.

The man chuckled, "Then, I would venture to guess that you wouldn't mind selling him to me?"

At that, Boy's Master tensed again, "M- my Lord?" he asked, tightening his hold on his precious prize, "What use would you have for Harry?"

The man's fingertips rested elegantly on his lips, "As you yourself said earlier, Lucius. A _decoration_."

* * *

As the frightening wizard departed, a small figure watched from one of the high set windows of the Malfoy estate. It twisted its hands in the dirty rag that clothed it, tearing small holes into the rough fabric. A low whimper crawled its way up from the house elf's throat, and with a snap of its fingers, it was gone…

* * *

Author's Notes:

We'll be getting more of Harry's past soon, his early life of being raised by house elves. (Point to remember; Harry is only eight years old,  
and able to use small amounts of wandless magic. It will be useful to him later on... and to someone else...)


	3. Mumpsimus

Disclaimer:  
I do not own Harry Potter or profit from writing this in any way, shape, or form.  
Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling.  
This is Fanfiction and, therefore, written only for my own amusement, and the enjoyment of whoever reads it.

Summary:  
During a raid, Lucius Malfoy came across an intriguing child and brought the infant home.  
Raised as a meager servant, little does anyone know how bright his future would be…

* * *

Anamorphosis

* * *

Chapter 3; _'Mumpsimus'_

* * *

**mump·si·mus**

_"One who sticks obstinately in their old ways."_

* * *

Boy had tried not to grasp his Master's robes so tightly. He was fond of his Master, and never wanted to leave him, but Boy had a sinking feeling that the other man was not someone to say 'No' to.

His small hands were fitted into the black, silken material of his Master's robes, probably bunching them up in odd places, leaving crinkled material where the shoulders were. Master didn't seem to mind as he continued to stare, almost blankly, at the other.

The other man stepped forward and reached to take Boy out of his Master's grip. Boy whimpered and clung tighter, until his Master had pulled him off and handed him to the other man, who carried Boy tightly in his arms.

Boy cast a nervous glance at his Master, but the man did not meet his eyes, choosing instead to stare down at the few flowers growing in the place beneath his shoes…

* * *

"You are a wizard, aren't you, Harry?"

The coach clattered along, the unsteady bumping and jostling of the carriage itself and the occasional not-quite equestrian noises of the Thestrals pulling it creating an overall frightening experience.

Boy sat stiff and still across from the stranger, his new 'Master'. The snake, its thick coils moving slowly in its sleep, lay between them on the carriage floor. Boy kept his gaze pointed downwards as he replied, "No, Master, Boy is a house elf."

The man looked at him with narrowed eyes for a moment before he let out a muted string of laughter. The sound woke the serpent whose tail slapped the man's leg lightly as its head buried itself under the man's seat.

"You, child, are no house elf," the man told Boy with a smirk. His expression grew serious as he continued, "And you will stop referring to yourself as 'Boy'. Your name is Harry, you are a wizard. A Half-Blood, I would venture to guess."

Boy tilted his head to the side, "Half-Blood, sir?"

The man nodded, "I can't see you as a Pure-Blood, they wouldn't get themselves caught up in a raid unless they were Weasleys, something you certainly aren't." he stated, leaning back against the upholstery of the seat, "Nor are you Muggleborn. Lucius wouldn't have taken you if you were, no matter how… _appealing_ he found you. Therefore, other options exhausted, you must be a Half-Blood."

Boy looked up at his new Master shyly, "Then, Boy is… not a house elf… Boy is a wizard…" he looked down again and smiled softly into his hands at the thought. He was special, just like Master had said.

He yelped when something struck him on the head. He looked up once more to see his new Master wielding a thick newspaper with a stern expression, the same paper that he had been reading earlier, "What did I tell you? Your name is Harry, not Boy. And stop referring to yourself in the third person, it's irritating."

Bo- _Harry_ nodded, "Forgive B- Harry, Master…"

Another, lighter whapping sound echoed through the carriage, "No, instead of your name, refer to yourself as 'I'. You are also to use 'me' or 'myself', when grammatically correct. Try it."

Harry tried, "Yes, Master… _Me _will-"

Another tap, "No, use 'I'. Again."

Harry frowned and pursed his lips. Glaring up at the man he stated, "_I _am Harry, not 'Boy'. _I _am a wizard, not a house elf. _I _dislike the new 'Master'."

As opposed to becoming angry, as Harry thought the man would, he grinned widely, "Well done, Harry." he spoke as he dropped the newspaper and delivered three gentle, consecutive pats to the top of Harry's head, "But if nothing else, remember this- so long as you are by my side, no man will ever be your master."

Harry pushed his hand away and covered his head with a frown. Luckily, he did so just as the carriage jumped over a large stone, sending Harry up into the air, causing him to knock his head against the wood of the ceiling cover.

The man had been holding on to one of the side rails attached to the door. Harry glowered at the man, who was now chuckling at his misfortune. _Harry _did not like his new 'Master', not one bit. He wanted Master Malfoy back…

* * *

Lucius sat in one of the plush covered armchairs in the east wing of the manor. His body was slumped forward, quite undignified, with his head resting heavily on his entwined hands, balanced on his knees, eyes closed gently.

What was he supposed to have done? Of course, he adored his precious little green eyed gem, would have loved to see the child grow, teach him to be a proper wizard, but…

If only, _if only_, his Harry had stayed inside his cupboard, if he had listened, had chosen not to disobey; _the one time in his life that he had ever gone against Lucius' orders!_

His body tremor-ed as he breathed out, his slate grey eyes opening partially. What _could _he have done? No matter how much he prized his boy, his Harry, would he have, _could he have_, rejected the Dark Lord? Could he, a Death Eater, high ranked as he was, have said _no_ to the most powerful wizard in Britain since Albus Dumbledore?

Of course not, he was not a fool. Had he refused, and had the Dark Lord felt so inclined, Lucius would be dead, and Harry would be gone just the same…

The Dark Lord had promised, after he had handed Harry over, that he would see a significant difference in his Gringotts vault. Also, a new mass of allies in his future campaign. Lucius had no need for money. He did, however, need a great deal of support if he was to run against Fudge. Which he was, of course…

Running a hand through his hair and effectively pulling loose the tie that previously held it in place, Lucius sighed. He had already imbibed a reasonable amount of alcohol to soothe his nerves prior to the Dark Lord's arrival, but considering the day he had had, Lucius felt inclined to indulge himself.

"Dobby!" he called wearily, and waited. Lucius sat up straight in his chair when the room remained silent, no tell-tale cracking noise to alert him to the presence of a house elf. Looking around, his doubts were confirmed.

Dobby, usually the quickest to obey of all his house elves, had failed to respond to his call…

* * *

Harry glared down at the proffered hand.

He and his new 'Master' had arrived at the latter's manor. The entire place exuded wealth and power. A towering wrought iron gate attached to a high stone fence veiled the entirety of the property from view.

From the carriage, only the portion of the manor through the thin front gate was visible. When the carriage had stopped, the Thestrals bucking and snorting, Harry's new 'Master' had exited the coach, followed swiftly by his serpent, which slithered past him and into the gardens.

As Harry had stood up, the man had extended a hand to help him out of the tall carriage. And so the two found themselves in their current position; Harry glaring at the man who, in turn, merely smirked and moved his open hand closer.

"Harry doesn't need help, sir."

The man's mouth twitched, "What did I tell you in the coach, Harry?"

The boy flinched, "I doesn't need help. I can get down."

The man withdrew his hand and sighed, the once extended hand retracting and covering the man's face, "I am sure," he muttered, "What you cannot do is speak properly. I will have to hire someone to teach you how to do so."

As the man stepped back and Harry jumped out, he glared up at the new 'Master', "I can speak proper!" he protested, "Master and father taught me!"

As Harry ran to catch up to the man who had, at the beginning of his tirade, began walking towards the manor, asked calmly, not even bothering to look behind himself, "Lucius and your father?" he questioned, "Who was your father, I was under the impression that Lucius took you from your birth parents?"

Harry now jogged beside the man in an effort to keep pace with him, "House elf Dobby, sir!"

The man stopped abruptly and turned to face him, clear disgust taking the place of his previous smirk, "Lucius gave you to a house elf?" he exclaimed in disbelief, shaking his head, "A wizarding child, given to be raised by house elves? The man has finally lost his mind."

The black gates swung open as he drew nearer, purposefully ignoring the indignant glares of his new 'decoration'…

* * *

Inside the manor, Harry was surprised to learn that he was to have his own room. Not merely a cupboard, no, a large, well furnished, with one circular window peering out over the front gardens.

"This is…"

"Yours." the man said with a hint of a smirk in his voice. His hand rested on Harry's thin shoulder and gave a gentle push, "Go on."

The room was gigantic, at least the size of Master Malfoy's master bedroom. The walls were cream colored, with a tall, four poster bed off to the far right. An old, pigeon-hole desk rested against the left wall, next to a tall mirror. The window was at the opposite end of the room.

The floor was a smoothly polished, dark colored wood. Several light fixtures hung high on the walls, "Mine." Harry whispered, confused at having something so… extravagant as his own. He turned back to his new 'Master' and asked suspiciously, "Why mine? Things not for servants."

The man frowned, a barely there downward turn of the corners of his mouth, "You are a wizard," he said, as if that explained everything, "Wizards do not _serve_, rather, they are _served_. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded slightly, "So, … I… not call sir Master?"

The man's eyebrows rose and his lips twitched upwards, "Not unless I start calling you Wormtail."

Apparently, whatever the man had meant by that was supposed to be amusing, if the widened smirk on his face was anything to go by.

The man looked at Harry for a long minute, "I suppose, you would call me 'my Lord'."

Harry's eyes widened. He had been bought by a royal wizard? He asked quietly, "Like Master Malfoy?"

The man leaned against the doorway, an unreadable expression on his face, "No, and he is no longer… I should say he never _was _your Master of any sort. Perhaps in regards to blood purity he is your better, but never your Master. As for myself," he added with a grin, "I am a Dark Lord. Have you ever heard of one before, Harry?"

Harry nodded slowly. He remembered hearing that title pass his Master's… his… Lord Malfoy's lips before. It was always spoken with the utmost of reverence, never a hint of jealousy or loathing. Someone… Lord Malfoy admired…

The man dipped his head in understanding at Harry's somewhat paler face, "Well then, Harry, I shall leave you to your own devices." he said, turning and heading out of the room, "Take care not to destroy my home with whatever magic those house elves taught you, won't you?"

Harry nodded. Just as the man, the Dark Lord, turned out into the hallway, Harry half-shouted after him, "W- wait!"

The Dark Lord turned his head towards Harry, his red eyes curious, "Yes?"

Harry shuffled nervously on his feet, "Why sir buy m- me from Mast- Lord Malfoy?"

The man stepped into the room, looking as if he had expected the question, "In our current wizarding society, which you may or may not be aware of, the main political branches are run by Pure-Bloods. However, a point of necessity in Pure-Blood politics and society of for the patriarch of each family, the Malfoys, the Blacks, and others, is to have an heir. That is, someone to pass on knowledge, experience, and titles to."

Harry frowned in confusion, but nodded.

The Dark Lord continued, "That is where you come in, child. As a Dark Lord, I have no need to marry myself off to some whining, money grabbing wench so that she will provide me with an heir. I would rather avoid the trouble. However, as an heir is a requirement, I thought to adopt a young Half-Blood instead. That is no longer needed."

Harry felt rather cold all of a sudden, gooseflesh rising on his arms.

"Step over to the mirror, child."

With a slow nod, Harry did so, the man following behind him. Harry stood a few feet away from the reflection, the taller man behind him, "Look at yourself, and then look at me."

Harry did so, tracing his eyes over both their features. The similarities were many; sharp, angled features, the same confident stare into the mirror, though Harry's was much more timid at the moment, their hair an almost exact match. The only extreme difference was their eye colour; crimson red, and holly green.

"You see, Harry," he said, resting a hand on his shoulders, "You and I look close enough to be related by blood. I will admit, my decision in purchasing you from Lucius was rash, though, I do believe the results to be well worth one uncharacteristic gesture."

The man smirked down at him, before removing his hands and leaving the room, "I shall arrange for you to have a tutor, I shall not allow my heir to be as uncivilized as a house elf."

Harry nodded mutely, his gaze never once leaving the mirror…

* * *

Lord Voldemort perused the archives of the Ministry, soft steps echoing in the dark of the room. A small ball of light hovered over his shoulder, lighting his way as he approached the birth records. He was exceptionally proud of himself, and took delight in the fact that he would no longer need to make any frivolous ties with some romanticized harpy.

His fingers ghosted over the year catalogs. Harry was only eight years old, so, if Lucius' information was correct, his birth date should have been sometime in 1980. He gently took that year's list off of the shelf, quietly blowing across it and crinkling his nose as a hoard of dust flew up into the air around him. He felt it in his lungs as he breathed steadily, "First name- Harry, last name- Potter."

Granting that the boy's name had not been changed, since Lucius had insisted that he had taken the boy from the Potter house, it should be easy enough to find him. If it was truly this boy. If not, he still had quite the talented young wizard on his hands. Wandless magic was no small feat for many great, wizened wizards. But for a boy of eight, that was something to behold.

He could hardly wait to teach the boy all manner of spells. But his duties as a Lord, as someone of such high standing in the world, took precedence over all other matters. He would have to teach the boy to be a proper wizard, not some sniveling little coward who thought of himself as so much less than everyone else around him. _A house elf indeed,_ he thought darkly as an image of the boy shimmered into view…

* * *

Author's Notes:

This chapter came up rather fast, wow (my inbox is flooded, you guys, but I am very glad you're enjoying this).  
Now, for the next chapter, I'm putting up a warning beforehand, and I will do so again:

**_The next chapter has detailed descriptions of child abuse._**

I don't want anyone to feel triggered by this, or involuntarily hurt someone by bringing it up, so I am warning you. In the first draft of this story that I put out (two years ago), it was excluded. I felt as if it was something that I shouldn't write and so that section was put into a separate document on my computer and never used. Child abuse (and abuse in general) is a terrible, atrocious, and disgusting thing, but it is an intricate part of the story, and Harry's younger life, and it needed to be included and so it is, as are many things that I cut from my original draft. A great many things will be coming to light very soon.  
And, again, heavy stuff is coming.

Other than that, happy reading (and my apologies for such a long A.N.).


	4. Abecedarian

Disclaimer:  
I do not own Harry Potter or profit from writing this in any way, shape, or form.  
Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling.  
This is Fanfiction and, therefore, written only for my own amusement, and the enjoyment of whoever reads it.

Summary:  
During a raid, Lucius Malfoy came across an intriguing child and brought the infant home.  
Raised as a meager servant, little does anyone know how bright his future would be…

* * *

Anamorphosis

* * *

Chapter 4; _'Abecedarian'_

* * *

**ab·e·ce·da·ri·an**

_"A person who is learning the alphabet."_

* * *

**CHAPTER WARNING:** The final segment of this chapter contains descriptions of past child abuse. If this is not something you are capable of reading, please   
skip that portion for your own mental health and safety. It is marked clearly with an X. Thank you, and enjoy the new chapter

* * *

"The bird fly."

Harry sat in a chair in the large living room. Opposite him on another chair was a tall, blonde haired woman holding flashcards with moving pictures. Her eyes were narrowed down into slits every time Harry made a mistake.

Mrs. Niche had been hired by the Dark Lord to teach Harry proper English. She was older, greying streaks in her hair. Her nose was long and sharp, her lips thin and pinched. She looked quite frightening and unpleasant. She reminded him of Lady Malfoy, though she wasn't as cruel. The woman would show Harry the cards, and he would make a sentence, telling her what the picture was of and what it was doing.

She was incredibly strict.

"No, try again."

"The bird _fly'd_." Harry said, with just a hint of annoyance.

The card dropped to the floor to join the others he had done wrong, "No. The bird _flew_, or the bird _flies_. This is how proper English works, you must master your tenses. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, not really understanding, but not willing to tell the woman otherwise. The woman nodded with a terse smile before holding up another, similar card, "And this one?"

The card she held was of a man, shaking hands with another. Harry thought for a moment, "The men shake hands…?"

The woman looked from Harry to the card, twice, before nodding and smiling kindly at him for the first time, "Well done, young master," she acquiesced, ignoring Harry's grimace at his title, "Perhaps that should be all for today, you have been studying for three hours already."

Harry nodded once swiftly at his teacher, feeling instantly proud of himself. He wondered if the Dark Lord would be proud of his progress before dismissing the thought. His teacher gave him one last, small smile before tossing some powder in the fireplace, climbing in, shouting something loudly, and disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

Harry coughed as some of the power flew into his throat.

* * *

Dobby the house elf trudged through a dense forest, using his own magic to find his son. His ears flopped gallantly above his head as his already shredded flour-sack of a tunic sustained even more tears.

His large eyes darted back and forth as he finally came into a clearing of sorts, in front of a large mansion. The gate in front was tall and oppressive, along with the massive stone fence. Dobby swallowed thickly, but quickly resolved himself.

His Boy was inside there, and he would get him out. Dobby was taking his son home.

* * *

The loud whooshing noise from the fireplace alerted Harry that the Dark Lord had returned. He lept off the chair and placed the book in his hands where he had been sitting only moments before.

It was a simple book, very few words and explanatory pictures; nonetheless vital to Harry learning to read.

The tall man shook powder out of his hair with a grimace on his face, only proffering a small smile when he noticed Harry staring at him from behind a corner, "I have returned," he stated simply, then asked with his smile fading slightly, "Why are you hiding from me?"

Harry slowly moved from behind the wall, looking downwards and shifting on his feet, "Don't know, sir."

He had taken to simply not referring to himself at all lately, easily confused by the continuous 'me's and 'I's that peppered the speech of wizards, of people, not house elves.

The Dark Lord huffed in distaste and Harry winced at the sounds that followed, "Must you act so disgustingly _servile_ all the time? You are a wizard, whether you like the fact or not, you _will_ act like one."

The man left the room with a loud outtake of breath, tossing his overcoat onto the coat rack that hung by the fireplace. Harry knew what would happen next. Mrs. Niche always left progress reports on Harry's lessons, and today's had not gone very well at all, despite his getting one correct. He assured himself that since he was strictly not a house-elf anymore, that he would not be punished for something as silly as a poor lesson, but that nagging part of him told him to hide, to run, to fear the Dark Lord as he still did Lady Malfoy.

His feet padded on the floor as he followed the man into the large office. The walls were a dark, nearly sinister, accented with slight hints of silver. Harry made to move into the room, when a hissing snarl and a snap of thin teeth stopped him short.

The Dark Lord's familiar, a massive black snake called Nagini, lay on the office floor near the window, soaking up the dying rays of the sun. Harry always got the feeling that Nagini didn't like him at all; hated him, even.

Perhaps because he always smelled like the house-elves she chased about the house, no matter how many times rough soaps had been brushed against his skin during his many baths…

He turned his head sharply when he heard the Dark Lord's strange whisper words. The man's head never lifted from the papers before him as he said more. Harry always thought the words were strange, like a real language, with spider webs winding around the sounds, obscuring them…

So many times, Harry had wanted to interrupt, to ask what was being said. But he never had.

And so Harry stood nervously in the doorway, watching the serpent as she writhed lazily on the floor, warming herself. He didn't move until the Dark Lord did, raising his bloody eyes up from Mrs. Niche's notes, "According to your tutor, you managed to form a proper sentence today, Harry."

The man's face was blank, and Harry gave a small nod, head tilted downwards, looking up at the Dark Lord who sat still as a statue in his chair. Dropping the paper down onto the desk, the man leaned back and the corner of his mouth quirked upwards, "Well done, child," and Harry smiled thinly at the bare minimum of praise, and then, "However, you need to be able to speak eloquently on all occasions and a simple sentence is definitely not enough to merit mastery of the language."

Harry sighed and his shoulders slumped. A sharp, small pain in his shoulder made him look up again to see the Dark Lord's wand pointed at him. Understanding, he stood up straighter until the wand was placed back on the desk, "Perhaps you need a better teacher. I shall look into the matter later," he stood up and walked over to where Harry stood, "For now, go get ready for bed, child. Goodnight."

The man placed a hand on his head and brushed the strands back once, before turning back to his desk. Harry swallowed and silently replied, "G- goodnight, sir." before rushing away, up the stairs and into his room.

After he had changed into his night clothes, he laid down on his bed with a sigh. Being a wizard was difficult, and Master Malfoy had always made it seem so _easy_! But for Harry, there were manners to learn, words to know, politics to follow, and all sorts of wizard-things that made his head spin.

He yawned and curled up in the bed, watching the remnants of the sun finally fade away as he drifted off to sleep…

* * *

X

* * *

When Harry opened his eyes, it was to find himself locked inside his cupboard, covered in his old rags with harsh, clacking footsteps drawing closer. He jumped in place when the door was hit loudly, in quick repetition, and a shrieking voice followed, "Get out!" it wailed, "Get out of my house, I hate you, why are you here, get out!"

A whimper passed through his lips as he recognized the voice. Lady Malfoy was outside of his cabinet. Again. Master Malfoy was always away when these things happened, and Harry inhaled unsteady breaths. It wouldn't be long before she opened the door.

With a muffled shout, Harry woke up. His face was muffled into the white pillow beneath him. He breathed raggedly as he came to realize it was only a dream, a nightmare. His tiny fingers found purchase over his left shoulder, twitching lightly over the raised skin.

It had been his first punishment at the hands of the Lady of the manor. He had been much smaller, not to say that he had grown much since then, but he still remembered everything about that day.

The weather was what came foremost to his mind as the door was beaten harshly. Hot and sweltering, Harry had been uprooting weeds from the gardens, little snaps of his little fingers making them disappear. It had taken him hours to finish, and he had nearly collapsed several times. Magic always made him feel weaker; he was such a terrible excuse for a house elf.

He felt as though his skin was on fire, and he had wandered back into the manor through the servant's door. Harry had wondered if Master would allow him some cold water, and he made his way into the kitchen. But his Master wasn't at home that day…

As his bare feet tapped almost silently on the tiles, Harry glanced around the corner, making sure that the Lady and the Young Master were not in the room. Of course they were. The Young Master was seated at the counter, wide and dark and made of wood, hands propping up his chin as he spoke happily with the Lady.

The Young Master, whose name was Draco, but Harry was not to ever address him by name, swung his feet to and fro as he talked. Harry was taken aback by the doting, loving, positively _adoring _expression on Lady Malfoy's face. It was the way his father looked at him when they passed each other by in the halls as they cleaned, the way Master rarely glanced at him from time to time.

Nothing like that had ever been given to him by anyone else.

Harry had caught the Young Master's eye, and the boy ceased talking. The Young Master's mouth dropped and his bright eyes widened, and Harry had briefly thought that he looked kind of funny that way. But the sharp, angry gasp to his left diverted his attention quickly. He had looked over to see Lady Malfoy, her face contorted and tinged with red splotches. Her shoulders were puffed upward in an indignant fashion and her nostrils flared once, and only once, before she was on him.

She had grabbed him hard by the hair, and he had shrieked at the pain, tears welling up in his eyes as he was dragged away. He had dug his feet into the floor, but realized how much that made it hurt, Harry had let his body hang limp as he was pulled roughly away. The Lady yanked and tugged him down into the area of the manor designated for house elves. Harry spent very few of his nights there, curled up with the others when his cabinet got too cold, or the threadbare sheets within it disappeared. He missed being small.

Once they had reached the bottom of those unsteady steps, she had tossed him down onto the floor. Harry didn't move, he didn't want to. His head had hurt so much. But nothing had hurt more than what had come next.

He had heard a dainty huff behind him, and the shuffle of clothes before something hit him in the arm. It had felt like nothing for just a tiny fraction of a second, and then it was as if someone had tried to rip his arm off. He had screamed and thrashed, barely able to move from where he lay. He heard the whimpering of house elves hiding around him. Something hot and wet ran across his back, then down his torso to his stomach.

And then everything stopped. Harry had twitched on the floor one last time, and he had faintly heard the sound of small feet approaching him before small, thin fingers touched across his face. His vision had faded into blurs of color, but he could make out the shape of a house elf in front of him. It had smelled of his father, like chimney soot and earthy roots. Something lightly dripped beneath him, like an unsteady faucet.

"You will _never_ look at my son again, you filthy little vermin."

He had heard clacking footsteps fading away, going back up into the main house, and he slumped into unconscious relief. But he had never looked at the Lady or the Young Master again...

With a shaky breath, Harry climbed out of the bed and stood alone in his room. The moonlight peered in at him from the window and he walked over to it. He looked down into the garden, seeing how different it was from Lord Malfoy's. He sniffled suddenly. He hadn't realized that he was crying, but now he felt the hot tears come pouring down his face.

Harry rubbed the sleeve of his night shirt across his eyes and nose before he turned around and went back to bed. The thought that chased him into a dreamless sleep was that he would never have to see Lady Malfoy again…

* * *

Author's Notes:

I... am so so sorry. I don't mean to hurt characters, it's just my default setting I think. Also, I apologize further for the lateness of this update.  
I'd been trying for three days to upload it but our internet is atrocious.


End file.
